


Asking For It

by ladydragon76



Series: Worth It [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fanfiction, M/M, Rating: NC-17 - Freeform, character: perceptor, character: sideswipe, character: smokescreen, character: sunstreaker, genre: dark, genre: hurt/comfort, series: worth it, smut: sticky, verse: g1, warning: non-con, warning: triggery content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Sideswipe should have known better.  If Smokescreen was everything he claimed he was before, then he really should have known better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asking For It

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** G1  
>  **Series:** Worth It  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters:** Smokescreen/Sideswipe, Perceptor  
>  **Warnings:** Non-con, Victim Blaming
> 
> **Notes:** A request fill. The request can be found **[here](http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=13157632) **. When I saw the prompt and showed Masq, the only thing either of us could think was, ‘Oh man! Smokescreen from **[Worth It](http://archiveofourown.org/works/385235) ** would do this.’ I tweaked a couple minor things to from the original prompt for the sake of my own headcanon, but I hope the OP and other readers enjoy it. ^_^
> 
>   **The Prompt**
> 
> _OKAY. So this has been eating at my brain for weeks and weeks, but I just don't have the skills for it._
> 
> _Rape culture is an awful thing, unfortunately it's not just our society that has it. For TFs, it can be the same, revealing armor, intoxicated, going certain places, a bad reputation, etc._
> 
> _For this I would like to see Sideswipe being taken advantage of (likely over-charged) by someone who's heard that the Twins will sleep with anything that moves. Having been turned down before, Mech A still wants to get with the red devil and tries again, this time scoring an escort to Sideswipe's room. Things get hot and heavy and are going alright until panels click open. Sides' says no and while that should be that, it's not. Mech A continues on, oblivious to the fact that he is now raping his partner, or worse, doesn't care as there was implied consent given. Sideswipe is charged enough that he can't put up a good enough fight/ has also had bad experiences before and knows that fighting back just ends badly. And since Mech A IS putting genuine effort in to make this good, Sideswipe overloads (more trauma? or knows it's just a reaction to the stimulus. Knowing his reputation as a prankster/trouble-maker he doesn't even try to report it._
> 
> _Next orn/day/event/gathering of mechs Mech A is bragging about scoring the red twin and Sideswipe, sober and hurting reacts in anger. Shouts that he said NO and goes off on a rant only to have it thrown back in his face that if he hadn't REALLY wanted it he would have stopped Mech A, and wouldn't have overloaded. The mechs assembled with Mech A agree leading to more trauma._
> 
> _ENTER MECH B. Mech B is horrified by his faction's response to this and goes to comfort Sideswipe. Cuddles, comfort, everything a big tough mech like Sideswipe 'doesn't need'. Can lead to tender-facing, can just be cuddles, as long as there is LOTS of comforts. (Possibly help reporting Mech A?)_
> 
> _Bonus Points! Mech B is Prowl, Perceptor or Skyfire.  
>  Moar Points! Sunstreaker is off on a mission and that's why everyone still has their limbs attached._

Sideswipe missed Sunstreaker. They weren’t often separated for missions, but with his twin on the other side of the globe, he was bored. Pits, he wasn’t even sure _why_ Jazz was throwing a party unless it was just because Prime was off on that same mission with Sunstreaker, and because Prowl was in Portland with some human official for another day.

Come to think of it, that was probably it.

The party was boring though. Well, maybe only to him, he thought, looking around at the laughing, drinking mechs.

“Hey. This seat taken?”

A cube of high grade appeared by Sideswipe’s elbow, and he looked up, optics narrowing at Smokescreen. “What do you want?”

Smokescreen sighed, and slid into a seat across the table, grimacing a little bit. “Come on, Sides. I’m sorry, ok? It was really stupid, but that was months ago. Can’t we be friends again?”

Sideswipe rolled his optics, and grabbed the cube. If he had to put up with Smokescreen for the damn night, he was going to need the high grade. He took a long drink, draining half the cube. “Fine. No funny slag though, I’m not in the mood.”

Smokescreen held his hands up in surrender, then proceeded to blather on about a whole bunch of slag Sideswipe didn’t care about. He laughed and talked and told stories, all while they drank. Sideswipe wasn’t sure how many cubes he’d gone through. It couldn’t be all that many because Smokescreen never got up and left the table, but there was always high grade there. Wait. He thought he finished the cube, but then, nope, there it was, still about a quarter full. Had he even finished a single cube yet?

Smokescreen was grinning and chattering on about… Drivetrains? What?

Sideswipe blinked blearily at him. “Huh?”

Smokescreen snickered. “Primus, are you drunk already?”

“No.” Wait. Sideswipe tipped his helm, and the room tried to invert.

“Whoa!” Smokescreen laughed, suddenly right there and gripping Sideswipe’s shoulders. “Holy slag, Sides! It’s not _that_ strong a brew.”

Sideswipe reeled, clutching at Smokescreen. He suddenly _really_ missed Sunstreaker and didn’t want to be there anymore. “I wanna go home. I wanna lay down.”

Smokescreen’s face drew into a sympathetic frown. “Ok. Let’s go to your berth.”

Ow. Why was Smokescreen talking so loud? Or was that the high grade? Sideswipe stood with Smokescreen’s help, making them both stumble with his first step. Smokescreen laughed, and for some reason Sideswipe giggled too.

Frag. How had he gotten this drunk?

Whoa. Were they at his door already? “How…?” Why didn’t he remember the walk from the common room? That happened, right?

Smokescreen snickered. “You use the keypad. Come on, Sides. You have to enter it. I don’t know your code.”

Code?

“Sides! Wake up, mech.” Smokescreen laughed, giving him a shake. “Code. Enter your code.”

Sideswipe opened his optics and squinted at the little squares that just wouldn’t stop swimming around and moving. He reached up to make them stop, then ended up leaning heavily against the wall. His fingers moved, and he could feel a warm soothing touch on his back. For a moment Sideswipe just rested his helm against the wall and shut his optics. There. That was easier. What was he touching? A keypad. Oh. Berth. Yeah.

A series of beeps later, and there was a quiet hiss as the door opened. Warm arms looped around him, guiding him into the dark.

_Sunny_ , Sideswipe thought, his knees hitting something and making him tumble forward. It was a soft, cushioned surface, and Sideswipe crawled up better onto it. His berth. Perfect. He needed to lie down.

“Sides.”

Bleary blue light glowed above him. Optics, his dizzy processors supplied. _Sunny?_ his spark asked. Sideswipe’s hands met warm, living metal, and he held on, pulling. The blue glow darkened, grew larger, then suddenly there was a soft heat pressing to his lips.

Oh. Kissing. Sideswipe liked kissing. He liked the way it spread warmth down into his spark. The way his sensornet tingled. He liked the weight of his twin pressing him into the berth, and how desire slowly tightened into lust deep in his belly. When his panel opened, he could smell the thick, heady scent of his own lubricant, and the light touch that slicked around the rim of his valve made him arch up and gasp.

“Pit yeah. You’re perfect like this.”

Sideswipe blinked. That wasn’t Sunstreaker’s voice. The mech on him wasn’t heavy enough, the tentative touch was too light, too gentle.

“Smokescreen.” Sideswipe’s mind rebelled, rallied, and he was able to see a little more clearly. Sky blue optics, not aquamarine. Not his twin. Not someone he wanted at all. “No.”

“Oh yes. You want it. You’re fragging _soaked_ for me.” Smokescreen’s finger pushed in, invading Sideswipe’s valve.

Sideswipe made an uncoordinated squirm, vents catching as bright pleasure burst across his circuits. He was turned on, but no. Not Smokescreen. Never that glitched fragger! “Stop.” He pushed ineffectually, limbs heavy and barely responsive. “Stop. Get out.”

“Relax. You’ll enjoy it. Look at you,” Smokescreen purred, body shifting over Sideswipe. “You’re panting and leaking lubricant. Your valve’s trying to pull my slagging finger in deeper.”

Sideswipe shook his helm, but rocking it back and forth only made the room spin harder. “No.”

The finger withdrew, only to be replaced by something larger, thicker. Sideswipe keened, struggling, but his most powerful effort barely moved him. He could hardly even keep his grip against Smokescreen’s shoulders. Then he couldn’t breathe.

Smokescreen thrust deep, his weight uncomfortable as his chest pushed down on Sideswipe’s. The pace was driving, and even though Sideswipe felt sick, even though his processors were screaming ‘no’, and he himself was begging, literally _begging_ Smokescreen to stop, his body reacted to the stimulus. Charge collected on the nodes embedded in the lining of his valve as Smokescreen’s spike rode back and forth over them.

In horror, Sideswipe arched, his body convulsing, actually _moving_ strongly in reaction where he couldn’t consciously force a response before, overload tearing him apart, burning through him. His scream was equal parts ecstasy and denial, and just before he lost consciousness, he felt the thick gush of Smokescreen’s release, heard him moan. There was even a light kiss to his cheek, as though Sideswipe had really wanted it.

_I didn’t though. I said no. I said stop…_

~ | ~

Sideswipe spent hours in the washrack once he could finally move. He wasn’t hung-over or sick, which was the weird part, but his body still felt heavy, his processors sluggish. He felt filthy and was disgusted with not just Smokescreen, but himself too. He left the washracks with his core temperature higher than normal just from the heat of the water, and his finish dulled from how hard he’d scrubbed himself.

Sunstreaker was going to have fits when he got home. Not only had Smokescreen taken something both twins considered Sunstreaker’s alone, but Sideswipe looked like slag. At least he thought so. Maybe he wasn’t _quite_ as dull, but his plating sure didn’t sparkle the way it should after a washing. He’d need to polish himself up, but first, he was starving. Energon, then he’d go back to his quarters and make himself look decent again. Maybe he could put the whole fragging thing out of his mind before Sunstreaker returned. The last thing they needed was for the golden mech to spend more time in the brig for beating Smokescreen, or for Sideswipe’s reputation to take another hit like last time.

The common room was boisterous, and Sideswipe could hear laughter as he approached. Primus, what had been in that high grade that no one was sick today? Usually after a party everyone was slow and quiet. Optics were dim, and everyone was careful not to move too fast or speak too loud. Not today though.

“It was amazing,” Smokescreen said.

The energon in Sideswipe’s lines went cold, but Smokescreen carried on, his back to the door, and the optics of the mechs surrounding him locked on his face.

“He was so fragging hot! I swear, I’ve never even had a trained pleasure bot _that_ responsive. He was _begging_ me!”

Ice suddenly shifted to burning rage. “To stop!” Sideswipe shouted. Helms snapped around, optics widening as they landed on Sideswipe. “I said no. I told you to stop. I was trying to push you away!”

Smokescreen looked up and down Sideswipe’s frame in a very deliberate way. “Uh, right. Like _you_ couldn’t shove me off of you if you wanted to? Come on, Sides, quit with the morning after guilt. It was great. You were amazing. You overloaded so hard, you nearly bucked me off and glitched my audials screaming!” He flashed a grin at the others around the table. “I should have recorded that.” A shiver made his doorwings wobble. “I swear I could get off on just hearing that scream again.”

Sideswipe’s fists clenched, face hot with humiliation and fury. “I told you to stop. You wouldn’t. That’s called rape. You may have coerced me last time with that bet slag, but this time I wasn’t willing in the least, and you wouldn’t stop!”

Smokescreen rolled his optics, but it was Bumblebee that spoke up. “Uh… Why, if you didn’t want him did you take him to your room then?”

“I didn’t!” Holy slag! Was he really being asked this?

“You really did,” Tracks said. “I remember hearing you invite him.”

Sideswipe boggled. “ _No_ , I didn’t! And so what if I had? I still told him to stop and get his hands off me!”

“Knock it off, Sides.” Smokescreen frowned, doorwings twitching in annoyance now. “What the slag is your problem anyways? I thought we were friends and that previous misunderstanding all forgotten and cleared up.”

“And if it wasn’t,” Cliffjumper added, “why the frag would you take a mech you didn’t trust or want back to your berth? You were wasted. You should be glad Smokes even helped you, let alone wanted to hang around with how fragging drunk you were.”

“His panel sprang open after just a couple little kisses!” Smokescreen glared up at Sideswipe. “You pulled _me_ down into those kisses, so quit trying to play victim here!”

“You know,” Bumblebee said, “if he really did something wrong, then why are you here, and not reporting him?”

“Because I didn’t,” Smokescreen huffed.

“I said no. I said stop, over and over!”

“You’re just worried what Sunstreaker’s going to do to you when he gets back and finds out you’ve been slutting around without him again.”

There was a low growl behind Sideswipe, and he tensed, almost afraid it was Sunstreaker, but the voice was wrong.

“I really frelling _hate_ that word!”

Optics all around widened again, and even Sideswipe turned, shocked to see Perceptor of all mechs. He could only think that he hadn’t even known the soft-spoken scientist knew any curse words, but wow, listen to him go.

“How the slag can _any_ of you sit there and defend Smokescreen?! Did you not _hear_ Sideswipe say he asked him to stop?! When you are in the berth, or on the floor, or up against a wall, and a mech says ‘stop’, you fragging well _stop_ , or you are a fucking _rapist_!”

Sideswipe blinked, mind locking on the most ridiculous things. Perceptor said ‘fuck’. Perceptor was swearing roundly while still being all articulate and stuff. Perceptor was way more creative and imaginative than anyone had thought if he was talking about interfacing on floors or walls while ranting away about consent. It was also just too big a concept that _anyone_ was standing up to defend Sideswipe. He couldn’t seem to process the thought. Not even as Perceptor ranted on, making point after dead-on point.

“And what if it was _you_?!” Perceptor snapped, pointing at Bumblebee. “What if you told a mech no, and he kept right on going? Would you like that? Would it matter to you if you had a little too much to drink, or knew you should not have trusted him? Or would the only thing that mattered to you be that you were violated by someone you told to stop? Someone you said you did not want to interface with?”

“He overloaded,” Smokescreen protested. “He _enjoyed_ it!”

“Do you _really_ want me to give you a dissertation on the involuntary physiological responses of our bodies? I _will_ call Ratchet and have him come in here with medical files and diagrams. If I were as base as you, I could even demonstrate how quickly and easily our systems can be overloaded unwillingly!”

Silence rang, and Sideswipe just gaped along with the rest of them.

Perceptor’s optics shifted to Sideswipe’s after he stared each mech at the table down, and his face softened. “Will you come with me? Bumblebee is right, you should report it.”

Sideswipe blinked a few times, then looked down at the light touch Perceptor gave his elbow. Perceptor moved his hand away just as quickly as he’d touched, and Sideswipe’s helm tilted. He wasn’t fragile, and Smokescreen certainly wasn’t the first to abuse him in such a way. It’d just been a while. He was almost insulted to be… rescued, to be treated like a… victim.

No. Wait.

Sideswipe gave Perceptor a tight smile that didn’t reach his optics and a terse nod. He really was kind of a victim, but he sure didn’t need to be coddled. He could deal with this. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Perceptor spared a glower then about-faced, spinning around on his heel before leading the way out.

“Wait a minute!” Smokescreen shouted. “You can’t report me!”

“If you didn’t do anything wrong-”

The voices faded as Sideswipe and Perceptor rounded a corner.

“Is it safe to assume you have not been to see Ratchet?”

Sideswipe shook his helm and frowned. “He didn’t hurt me. I just feel gross.”

Perceptor’s quick glance was far too empathic. “You washed already.”

“Why? Not like he didn’t admit to ‘facing me to half a dozen mechs. Don’t need the proof of transfluid.”

“I meant for the comfort, however, if you’re willing, I can -or we can have Ratchet- check your systems.”

“I was drunk.”

“So?”

Sideswipe was genuinely confused. “Uh…”

“How much did you drink? What can you recall?”

Sideswipe followed Perceptor into the lab, and shrugged as Perceptor directed him toward a stool to sit on. “I remember thinking the party was lame, and then Smokescreen sat down. I drank,” he paused to shrug again. “I don’t know. There was high grade, and I thought I finished the cube a few times, but neither of us ever got up.” He shook his helm, rubbing at a spot over his left optic as Perceptor rummaged around in a storage locker. “It couldn’t’ve been _that_ much, and I wasn’t hung-over this morning. Any other time I’ve been as cratered as I felt last night, I woke up wishing I’d died when Menasor stepped on my head instead of left to suffer a life of agony.”

Perceptor returned, and Sideswipe was quickly connected to some sort of scanner or diagnostic devise. “Hm,” he hummed a moment later.

“Hm? What’s hm?” Sideswipe asked, leaning over to look at the screen.

Perceptor gently pushed Sideswipe’s helm out of his way. “I cannot be sure, but I have my suspicions that you were not indeed drunk, but drugged.”

Sideswipe gasped out loud, head rearing back. “I- He- What?!”

Perceptor looked up. “I think we should have Ratchet check. The medbay has far more- Sideswipe!”

Sideswipe jerked the leads out of his medical access ports and stormed across the lab. He clutched at his helm and faced the wall, then dropped his head forward to thump against it. “No.”

“Sideswipe.”

“He planned it.” Sideswipe’s voice was muffled as he blocked out the world with his arms and the wall.

There was a soft sigh. “I believe that is a possibility, but I am not completely certain. As I had begun to say, my equipment is not as sensitive as that in the medbay. Before we make a judgment, I would recommend being sure.”

“No. He planned it. He intended this. He set me up!” Sideswipe spun around, arms swinging down so his fists slammed back into the wall. He struggled lightly as Perceptor gripped his shoulders. “You don’t understand!” This shouldn’t happen anymore! He’d left being helpless and used and exploited behind long ago. “This shouldn’t have happened to me!”

Sideswipe was falling forward. No. Leaning. The crest of his helm landed against Perceptor’s shoulder and arms wrapped gently around him, supportive but not binding. Frag. When’d the little scientist get this tall? Had he always been?

“No. It should not happen. Not ever.”

Sideswipe didn’t break. He didn’t cry. He growled and refused to give Smokescreen the satisfaction. He was trembling, but called it rage. Yeah. Rage. He’d stick with that.

“It is, of course, your choice, but I would like to take you to the medbay.”

Sideswipe cycled his vents, then straightened up. He met Perceptor’s gaze and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, and then I’m reporting him.” He hesitated, optics dropping as he bit his lip.

Holy frag. Really? He’d never- No one _ever_ -

“I will help you if you like. You can simply speak, and I can log it.”

Sideswipe looked back up at Perceptor, letting the idea settle. “I’d like,” he said, holding Perceptor’s gaze a moment longer, then moved toward the door. “And Perceptor? Thanks.”

Perceptor smiled, face taking on a light pink glow, and followed after Sideswipe.

~ | ~

Sideswipe watched on the monitor. He had two cameras online, one that showed Smokescreen in his cell while the other showed Sunstreaker. His twin sat in a chair against the wall across from Smokescreen. Narrowed, aquamarine optics held a lambent glow even in through the vidscreen.

There were no more words. Smokescreen had run dry of his ranting. Then he’d run out of excuses. Then he’d shouted at Sunstreaker demanding to know what he wanted, daring him to lower the energy field, telling him to do it already. Try to beat him again. Asking for it. _Begging_ for some response. Now he sat sulking on the cell’s berth, arms crossed, helm turned away, and visibly trying to hide how discomfited he was.

Sunstreaker sat, optics locked on Smokescreen’s face.

Silent.

Sideswipe smirked, then shut down the feed. He promised Perceptor a polishing, and wanted to grab them a couple cubes on his way.

**Author's Note:**

> **([Table of Contents](http://ladydragon76.livejournal.com/6214.html) ) ******


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